I don't remember what happened next, it's like I totally blacked out. The next thing I remember, I was sat in Adam's arms, totally blank. I was staring into space, and I guess I had cried so much I was too tired to go on. It was getting dark, and we were on the floor. I was leaning on Adam's chest, my face tucked into his neck. I'd cried all day until I was numb.

But I guess he was just getting started, because the only thing I remember was his arms wrapped around me, his hands in my hair, and his sobs. I had my arms around him, my face buried in his neck. I'd lost my soulmate, my boyfriend, and here Adam was weeping for me. Nothing made me feel more loved than in that moment.

His cries were quiet, but they echoed in my apartment. His arms gripped my shirt, his chin pressed against the top of my head. His chest heaved with every sob, and his hands shook.

I was numb, and here he was, feeling all of my pain so deeply. My legs were wrapped around his hips, and eventually I needed to pull away. I needed to see his eyes. But nothing prepared me for his tears. His cheeks were stained with tears steadily streaming. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen. Tears overflowed and rushed down his cheeks as he looked at me, a crease in his eyebrows.

"You okay?" he asked me.

I shook my head, no words could be spoken. His sharp intake of breath startled me as fresh tears made their way down his face. He pulled me in for a bone-crushing hug as he cried for the both of us. I pulled away, desperate to dry his tears.

I reached up and held my thumbs under his eyes, in an effort to catch the tears he shed. I thought it would calm him down, but it seemed to invite larger tears. His breath hitched as he held his eye contact with me.

"I lost my boyfriend, my love. But I never expected you to cry this way." I said, slowly running my thumbs down his cheeks. It proved to be futile, for every tear I dried, 3 new streaks appeared.

He took a breath, shutting his eyes to steady himself.

Princess_Lucky1731 wrote:

This story gave me goosebumps. I coul feel every emotion and detail like I was right there feeling it with them. This is by far the most intense story I have every read. It was absolutely breathtaking! <3

Thank you! This was based on an actual friend I had when I was 15 who went through some of these things. I was in love with him, but we were online friends and he disappeared and I could never find him again. This is my fantasy of what I wish would happen if I had found him today.

I thought this would be interesting to share. There's a new chatbot that can basically write anything you ask it to known as Chat OpenAI (Google it, you can try it for free!). I tried it out to see if it would write as good stories as we write on this forum.

Here's the prompt I put into it: Write a long story about a man crying many tears. Give details about the tears and their paths as they fall down. Sad ending.

Here's the story it put out:
The man sat alone in his bedroom, staring at the wall in front of him. Tears streamed down his face, and he made no effort to wipe them away. He had been crying for hours, and it seemed like the tears would never stop.

As he sobbed softly, the man watched the tears fall down his face. They were thick and heavy, and they left tiny wet trails on his skin. He felt like he was being consumed by his own sorrow, and he didn't know how to make it stop.

The man's tears fell in different patterns as they rolled down his face. Some of them fell straight down, following a direct path to his chin. Others curved slightly to the left or right, creating tiny rivers that snaked across his cheeks. Still others pooled in the corners of his eyes, gathering in small, round pools before finally spilling over.

For a long time, the man sat in his bedroom, shedding endless tears and watching them fall. He felt completely alone, and he didn't know how to make the pain stop. He tried to distract himself by turning on the television, but nothing could break through the cloud of grief that had enveloped him.

As the night wore on, the man's tears began to subside. He started to feel a sense of calmness wash over him, and he realized that he was beginning to accept what had happened. He didn't have all the answers, and he didn't know what the future held, but he knew that he would be able to get through this difficult time.

But the man was wrong. As he finally got up from his seat on the bed, he stumbled and fell to the floor. His heart was racing,

This fic is my male version of Catharsis by repressedjudy, I hope they don't mind!!

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"Guys don't cry," he whispered. "If that's the case, what have I been doing for the last 30 minutes?"

He blinks as another rush of tears cascade down his cheeks. He doesn't bother drying them or rubbing them away, like most guys do. In some ways, he's relishing in the tears. He likes the way they taste, the warm feeling they bring as they trickle down his cheeks, even the blurry, burning flood they create when they pool up in his blue eyes.

"I've never heard of a guy crying for 30 minutes, and enjoying it. I'm royally fucked up."

*60 minutes earlier*

He'd gotten so angry he nearly broke his knuckles after punching a metal pole. Not his finest moment. His girlfriend and he had the worst argument, and he felt they were breaking up. What were they arguing about? None other than crying. She told him she'd never seen him cry and that it was unhealthy. He told her not everybody cries at the drop of a hat like her whiny ass.

She left in anger, he punched the pole. After going through the conversation in his mind, he started to realize she was right. He was hurt, so why did he punch a pole instead of feel the pain? He couldn't remember the last time he cried. So he set off on a mission. "I need to cry ASAP," he told himself.

He tried scrolling through photos, nothing. Thinking of his old dog, nothing. He thought about his deceased mom, still nothing. The fact that he couldn't cry made him feel tearful, but still nothing came out.

That's when he started Googling movies that make men cry. Titanic? No. Shawshank Redemption? No. Marley and Me? Bingo.

He settled in on the couch and put on the movie. He grabbed a box of tissues and held them in his hands, trying to invite the tears to come. Halfway through the movie, and while his heart ached, he didn't cry. Even at the ending, tears swam in his eyes, but he couldn

We'd been together for a year and had finally moved in. He was a perfect guy, a college athlete and graduated college with a 4.0. Me, I was pretty normal, except that I got the guy that every other girl wanted.

We were happy, genuinely and truly happy. We spent every free moment together, and when we were out it was as if no one else existed. Just us. We'd both been through trauma, and we were the only ones who understood each other.

It was a lazy Saturday, one of those days you hang out at home in your pajamas, bake cookies, and fall asleep in each other's arms watching movies while it rains.

We watched action movies and sad romantic movies too. We watched the Notebook, and he'd never admit it, but I saw those tears roll down his cheeks at the end.

After napping together, I woke up to him staring out the window. He looked deep in thought, and I saw pain in his eyes. He looked heartbroken. Maybe he was thinking about his trauma, I don't know. But generally when trauma came up he'd tell me, and often even wake me up when he needed to talk about his pain.

Despite his trauma, he never seemed to cry about anything. It wasn't that he suppressed anything, he just simply hadn't experienced anything sad in the year we were together. Both of our lives were good.

He had his elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped together, deep in thought. I sat up and gently rubbed his back. He always seemed to open up when I did that. The pain on his face seemed to etch deeper.

"What's on your mind?" I asked.

He sighed and turned to me, crossing his legs and fiddling with his fingers. I grabbed his hands and began rubbing circles with my thumbs. His eyes grew darker and his brows creased as he spoke. "I guess I'm sad, and I feel like my past is affecting our present."

"In what way?" He looked up at me, with the deepest sadness I'd ever known. "C'mon," I told him. I got up and guided him into our room. We turned off the tv and sat on our crimson bed.

"I'm afraid." He spok